


Breaking (in) a Toy

by rabbit_in_a_lizard_mask



Series: Creepy stuff [4]
Category: Mangled (music video)
Genre: Burning, Burns, Choking, Creepy Comfort, Electricity, Electrocution, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Knifeplay, Knives, Whump, all of this is completely nonsexual torture, but from the whumper, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabbit_in_a_lizard_mask/pseuds/rabbit_in_a_lizard_mask
Summary: Matt wakes up blindfolded, gagged, and tied to a chair with his hands behind him. Well, this is abrilliantstart.The last thing he remembers is going to the supermarket. That's absolutely no help. He wiggles a little bit, testing his bonds, but they're not moving anytime soon, at least partially because of the sheer amount of rope wrapped around his chest, seriously, what the hell? Who has this much rope on hand?Why?… The answer is probably 'because it's used a lot.' He carefully doesn't think about what that means.
Series: Creepy stuff [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1393597
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Breaking (in) a Toy

Matt wakes up blindfolded, gagged, and tied to a chair with his hands behind him. Well, this is a  _ brilliant _ start.

The last thing he remembers is going to the supermarket. That's absolutely no help. He wiggles a little bit, testing his bonds, but they're not moving anytime soon, at least partially because of the sheer amount of rope wrapped around his chest, seriously, what the hell? Who has this much rope on hand?  _ Why? _

… The answer is probably 'because it's used a lot.' He carefully doesn't think about what that means.

* * *

His breathing hitches when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Whoever it is isn't talking, and it feels like they're right behind him, leaning over him slightly, not in any hurry to help him out, and  _ fuck,  _ this person is almost definitely the reason he’s tied to a chair and the grip they have on his shoulder is bordering on painful but they’re not actively trying to hurt him, right?

…Weirdly, there’s something comforting about the  _ iron grip on his shoulder this is not good Matthew what the hell this is almost definitely the guy that kidnapped you  _ and his breathing is getting out of control, please  _ no _ he wants to go  _ home, please,  _ just _ let him  _ **_go-_ **

The hand on his shoulder loosens a little, and the thumb rubs soothing circles across the base of his neck. He catches himself leaning into the unexpectedly gentle touch and tenses again as he remembers where he is and who he's with - or more accurately, that he doesn't know on either count. Whoever they are, they don't seem to mind, continuing to calm him until his shoulders slump. He's aching from being constantly tense, and the repetitive sensation grounds him in a way which is probably concerning, given his current...  _ Circumstances. _

* * *

Almost as soon as he calms down his shoulder is released and he can hear them walking around to his other side, and then there’s a ringing phone, okay, he can deal with this, kind of. They hold the phone to his ear, and whatever was in his head is driven out by hearing Phone Guy from FNAF. Seriously? Phone Guy? Of all the things he was expecting to hear,  _ that _ was not on the list.

_ “Hello hello? Okay listen. I have no idea where you are or how you got there. What I do know is that that guy you were seen with last night? He’s bad news. Oh- but some good news! ...If you’re hearing this, chances are you’re still alive.” _

His heart rate spikes again. Hearing it like that makes it...so, so much worse. He’s managed to block out the statistics on missing people until now, forcefully not paying attention to how small his chances of getting out of this alive are. The part of his brain that just _won’t shut the hell up_ can’t decide if this is good news or horrible news, because the way the guy’s been acting until now says that he might be found before he's killed, might be found while there’s still air in his lungs and blood in his veins, and okay that took a very dark turn but he’s literally been kidnapped, blindfolded, gagged, tied to a chair, and played a recording of Phone Guy saying he's probably going to die  _by his kidnapper,_ he’s allowed to be a little dark about this! If his kidnapper is  ~~letting~~ _making_ him listen to that message then that's… Very bad news for his chances of survival.

The hand absently tracing the artery on his neck doesn't bode  _ well _ for them, either.

But  _ maybe _ since this guy's apparently a drama queen he'll be left alive? Besides the grip on his shoulder that probably left a bruise,  _ ow,  _ he hasn’t actually been  _ hurt _ yet… 

Matt’s startled out of his thoughts by a low chuckle and right, the guy’s still  _ right there. _

His kidnapper leans in close, so close Matt can feel breath on his ear when he whispers

"Don't you get lost on me, Matthew."  _ Oh shit oh shit oh shit this guy knows his name bad news  _ **_bad news-_ **

_ Slap. _

A hand cracks across his cheek, and he yelps through the gag, stunned out of his thoughts again by the pain.

His chest heaves for breath, every sense straining to locate the man. A sound from beside him makes him jerk his head around to face it almost violently, on high alert for another hit.

_ "There _ we go," The guy says almost conversationally, catching hold of Matt's jaw and using it to (probably?) examine the mark on his cheek.  _ (Is _ there a mark? It was a pretty hard slap…) 

"You're gonna stay in the present and pay  _ attention _ to what's happening, and I won't have to do that again, hm?"

Matt swallows, throat suddenly dry. It's painfully obvious with his head tilted the way it is. Tries to nod, because what else can he do? If he makes himself too much trouble, he'll just be hurt again. He resolutely _ doesn't _ think about how he'll probably be hurt anyway, thank you very much, brain. He is  _ not _ thinking about how he's entirely at this stranger's mercy and he'll be unbelievably lucky to get out of this alive. He's  _ not. _

His captor lets go, patting his cheek condescendingly.

"Good boy. Now, let's get  _ started." _

* * *

The blindfold is heightening his senses, making each of his captor's steps around him seem to echo in his head. He takes this opportunity to assess his situation as much as he can while blindfolded. It’s not an excuse to ignore what “started” could mean. Shush. 

  * He's tied to a chair.
  * A _ridiculous_ amount of rope is wound around his chest, but his arms and legs are relatively unbound; only his wrists and ankles are tied.
  * He can't see or talk. ~~_(Beg,_ whispers his brain. You can't _beg.)_~~
  * From how little give the ropes have, he may as well be _chained_ to the chair.
  * Finally, the only person who knows where he is happens to be the reason he's _missing_ in the first place!



All in all, it doesn't look good.

"You enjoying yourself there, Matthew?"

When he doesn't respond to the  _ rhetorical question _ his captor tuts disappointedly. What fucking game is he playing?

"C'mon. I'm not talking to myself here. Having fun?"

He cautiously shakes his head, unsure if a negative answer will provoke his captor, but ultimately opting for honesty (he's  _ clearly _ not here willingly, he's been  _ tied to a chair.)  _ Luckily, the guy doesn't seem to mind, just laughing quietly as something clicks faintly once.

"That's a shame. Maybe with some… Entertainment?"

His kidnapper trails off, and suddenly Matt doesn't know where he is. Between one word and the next, his footsteps vanished and the only reason Matt knows he kept moving is because whatever clicked before clicks again. Is there a carpet in here? He  _ firmly _ squashes the thought that he's just being toyed with and that this guy could walk like that the whole time.

~~… He probably could, though.~~

Matt's left, tense and alert in his bonds, in a room that may as well be  _ empty _ for all he can tell.

It  _ may as well _ be empty, except for the bit where there is a guy walking around him on scarily silent feet with an unidentified probably-torture-device.

Well, isn't this just  _ lovely.  _

* * *

Click click click, right next to his  _ ear, _ and he couldn't stifle the flinch if he tried.

"Know what this is, Matthew?"

He's talking calmly, like he's explaining a game and they've just come across a new mechanic. Not at all like someone who's abducted Matt, tied him to a chair, scared him for the fun of it, and is currently threatening him.

Matt shakes his head hesitantly.

"Scared of finding out?"

The nod this time is emphatic.  _ Please don't hurt me, _ he pleads silently.  _ Please, just let me  _ **_go!_ **

He hears the click one more time from behind him before there's a  _ searing _ pain in his forearm. He yells as much as he can through the gag, pulls away as much as his bonds will allow, and hears laughter.

_ Lighter. Shit. _

"Making noise  _ already? _ Aww, Matthew, you're going to be so much  _ fun. _ Actually, speaking of..."

_ That _ doesn't bode well. He squirms away from the fingers walking up the back of his neck -  _ why _ does this guy keep invading his space so much - and his muffled protests turn to surprise when the gag is tugged down.

"Wh-" he gets out before the gag is replaced with a calloused hand.

"Shh, shh. You've behaved pretty well so far, but  _ just _ on the off chance, yelling for help isn't going to do anything other than piss me off. Alright?"

He takes his hand away, and Matt takes a moment to just breathe. He didn't realise how bad the gag tasted until it was gone.

"Who  _ are _ you?"

"Not important, buddy. I'm just a nightmare. I could be anyone,  _ Matthew. _ The  _ important _ thing you should be paying attention to right  _ now, _ is the game."

"... Game?"

"You guess what I've got. Get it right, and I'll move on! If you're not sure, we can… Linger. Until you're  _ certain." _

Oh, so he's being made complicit in his torment.

Great. 

Nightmare - it's as good a thing to call him as any - seems to think that's the end of the conversation. To be fair, Matt doesn't particularly want to continue it. But the little bit of his brain that is  _ not contributing to staying in the present  _ and thus _ not contributing to avoiding getting  _ **_hit_ ** is loudly pointing out that Nightmare didn't account for  _ failure. _

"What if I'm sure and I'm wrong?"

"Are you  _ sure _ you want to know?" Nightmare sounds… anticipatory. 

Several warning sirens go off in Matt's head.

"...If you will  _ tell _ me and not  _ show _ me?"

"It's a yes or no question, Matthew." Nightmare taps a rhythm over Matt's pulse point, clearly  _ extremely _ entertained.

"I'm sure that I  _ don't _ want to find out."

"Good answer! Don't ever lose the sass." Nightmare backhands him. Not at full force, (he's pretty sure the slap earlier wasn't at full force  _ either,) _ but enough to sting. It's almost… playful. 

In the way that cats are playful with mice.

Then he hears it click again and he doesn't react fast enough to prevent Nightmare pressing it to his arm  _ again. _ _ Right _ next to the first one. Because he needed  _ two _ throbbing points of agony on the same arm,  _ clearly. _

He can't hold back a whine of pain, despite his internal snarky commentary. He would be worried, but he's distracted by Nightmare stroking his hair. It's disturbingly soothing, and he catches himself leaning into it  _ again. _

That's… Even more worrying.

"Figured it out yet?"

Nightmare's tone  _ hasn't changed _ and that's almost affecting Matt more than the burn, that someone can sound so casual as they hold a flame to someone else's skin, that someone so cruel can sound so  _ nice. _

It clicks again and he flinches, but the pain doesn't come.

"I asked you a  _ question, _ Matthew."

"Yes, sorry, it's a lighter, you've got a lighter!"

Matt answers with a frantic apology almost before his captor's finished speaking, tone suddenly as dangerous as his words.

"Really? You're absolutely  _ sure _ you've figured it out?"

"... Yes." He kicks himself over being more hesitant this time. It's a lighter. It's the only thing he can think of that explains both the clicking sound and the burn. He's right.

… Isn't he?

Nightmare hums softly, tracing a gentle hand up his neck, around his throat.

"Sure enough to bet your life?"

Matt can't move. Terror holds him paralysed, pulse thudding violently in his veins against his captor's fingers. It feels like ice was dumped down his spine instead of fire held to his arm.

"Shh, shh, shh. It's okay, Matthew. You just can't trust your guess, can you?"

Despite the…  _ reassurance, _ the hand around his throat doesn't give. It  _ tightens, _ enough to make breathing difficult, and the sobs he's been stifling so far become painfully obvious.

_ No no no no no no no  _ **_please_ ** _ no stop he doesn't want to die here- _

It loosens.

He barely hears Nightmare's casual tone, too busy desperately gasping in air.

"You back with me or do I need to hit you again?"

"I- I just needed to  _ breathe, _ don't!"

Nightmare laughs, tangling his fingers in Matt's hair.

_ "As _ it happens… You were right. It was  _ very _ fun to see you double-guess yourself and ask for me to burn you again, though."

Fan-fucking-tastic.

"I didn't ask-"

"Oh, but you weren't  _ sure. _ It's the rules, Matthew. You're either sure, or…"

The hand in his hair pulls back sharply before shoving his head forward as he's released.

"... You're not."

He bites his tongue on the retort he wants to make, certain that talking back won't do him  _ any _ favours. 

"Oh, that's a good idea. You  _ don't _ need to speak for this bit, do you?"

Nightmare laughs, retying his gag roughly.

He steels himself for the pain he knows is coming, and isn't disappointed.

_ Click. _

He's barely given a moment to breathe after the lighter moves away before Nightmare burns him again.

And again. And again.

He leaves a dotted line of throbbing agony up one arm, holding Matt still effortlessly with his other hand when he tries to pull away. The tune he's humming under his breath is a harsh contrast to Matt's muffled sobbing in pain.

"You learned your lesson yet?"

Matt nods desperately, trying to pull his arm out of Nightmare's grip an even more futile endeavor than pulling against the rope.

"Mm, I don't know… You do have two arms, don't you? It'd be a waste if I didn't use that…" 

He shakes his head frantically, startled when Nightmare laughs and lets him go.

“I  _ suppose _ I can live without burning it, but you'd better not complain when I find an alternative."

Irrationally, Matt's annoyed that he's going to bruise. Being burned? Fine. Acceptable. Terror-inducing but he can deal. Being bruised by probably-accident? Wow. How  _ dare _ you.

Distantly, he realises that he's probably in shock. Huh. Who'd have thought? Nightmare’s vanished from behind him, but that seems like a not-so-pressing problem. He can just float here, let the throbbing in his arm and the pressure of the ropes become his whole world. 

_ Freezing _ water cascades over him. He thrashes, his own shocked yell hurting his ears almost more than Nightmare’s hysterical laughter.

“Oh my  _ God,  _ that was  _ hilarious. _ You weren’t expecting that at  _ all, _ huh?”

He bites down on the gag to keep his teeth from chattering but can’t stifle another yell as Nightmare tips a  _ second  _ bucket of ice water over him. This one hits him from the front, completely soaking him, and Nightmare grabs him by the hair (that explains why it didn't hit Matt's head; he must not have wanted to give up his handle,) drags his head forward, and  _ drops ice cubes down the back of his shirt. _

Is Nightmare  _ five? _

Matt's left there, soaked and shivering, while Nightmare gets whatever else he's going to use to hurt him next.

Matt doesn't like this game.

* * *

Nightmare announces his return with a stinging slap to Matt’s thigh, laughing at his jump.

"Aww, did I startle you? Did you get a little bit scared cause you couldn't tell what was gonna happen? Poor Matthew, suffering all alone…"

While he's talking, Nightmare's trailing something that feels… like metal? Over his legs. It's flat, and Nightmare keeps trailing it in the same pattern. He turns it edge-on, and- _ oh fuck _ that's  _ definitely _ a knife,  _ shit. _

Nightmare laughs again at Matt frozen in fear and undoes the gag one-handed, still deceptively gentle with the knife.

"Please don't," Matt gasps, trying to hold as still as possible as the knife makes its way up across his thighs, to his stomach. "Please, please, no. Don't,  _ please." _

__

Nightmare chuckles.

__

"I take it you have a guess?"

__

"Oh, god. It's a knife."

__

"Mm… sorta. You're right, but you're gonna need to be a  _ bit _ more specific."

__

_ “More specific?” _ Matt’s outraged reaction is  _ immediately _ cut off when Nightmare yanks his head back by the hair, pressing the knife to his exposed throat.

__

**"Watch. It."**

__

Matt can't watch  _ anything, _ he's  _ blindfolded. _

__

It's probably not a good idea to say that to the person who's holding a knife to his throat, though.

__

His burns throb.

__

Nightmare's _ almost _ but not  _ quite  _ pressing hard enough to break the skin. He knows exactly what he's doing. Fuck.

__

The chill of the metal against his pulse combined with the previous soaking sends a shiver down Matt's spine. It's  _ not _ fear. He's just _ freezing. _

__

"Cat got your tongue, Matthew?"

__

The knifepoint traces under his jaw. 

__

Matt whimpers, leaning into the hand in his hair purely to stop focusing on the cold metal in Nightmare's other hand.

__

"Oh,  _ good _ boy." Nightmare gentles his grip, petting his hair softly. The knife doesn't move, though. His neck is beginning to ache from the position it's been wrenched into, but he doesn't dare relax, straining to keep away from the blade.

__

Nightmare leaves him like that for a long moment before pulling away.

__

"Anything you'd like to  _ say, _ Matthew?"

__

"... I'm sorry, I'm  _ sorry, _ I wasn't thinking, please don't, please, I just don't understand it's a knife I'm  _ right,  _ what do you _ mean _ more specific, I don't  _ understand, please-" _

__

Something clatters to the floor as Nightmare covers Matt's mouth. 

__

"Shh, shh, shh. Breathe. You're hyperventilating. In, and out, come on. Good, that's it. Well done. Calm down, Matthew. I'm gonna hurt you anyway, freaking out won't change anything."

__

It takes Matt an embarrassingly long time to realise that Nightmare's other hand is gently working the tension out of his shoulders, and that if  _ both _ of his hands are occupied  _ neither _ is holding the knife.

__

Nightmare rubs Matt's cheek with his thumb before letting go.

__

"There we go. Feel better?"

__

"Y-yeah. I still don't…"

__

"It means you have to guess what  _ type _ of knife, Matthew. Is it a kitchen knife, switchblade, pocketknife, Swiss Army knife… the possibilities are  _ endless, _ really."

__

Oh.

__

Well then. There's only really one way for Matt to tell the difference.

__

He tugs against the ropes on his wrists, desperate for an outlet for all his nervous energy.

__

... Actually, this is more than  _ nervous. _ Terrified energy, maybe? It doesn't have the same ring to it.

__

_ Slap. _

__

His head snaps to the side with the force of the blow, blood rushing in his ears as he gets jarred out of his head,  _ again. _

__

"Are you bored, Matthew? Getting distracted so much… maybe I should just start removing fingers and see when you pass out?"

__

_ Oh, God. _

__

"No! No no no no  _ no _ please don't I'm sorry it won't happen again, please!"

__

Nightmare laughs, dragging the blade down Matt's arm almost  _ gently. _

__

"Well, I don't know… I've had to hit you  _ twice _ now. Really not convincing me to spare you, buddy…"

__

Matt can't breathe. Terror is a spiked ball in his lungs, digging in every time he tries to get air, he's caged in ropes and fear and  _ pain _ and his captor is the only friendly touch around, the burning warmth of his hands leaving imprints on his skin and  _ isn't this meant to _ **_hurt?_ ** _ Why is Nightmare  _ **_comforting_ ** _ him? _

__

_ "...Why? Why why why why why, why are you  _ **_doing_ ** _ this? Why calm me down when you're the one who scared me?  _ **_Why?"_ **

__

Nightmare's silent for a long time, just running his hands through Matt's hair as he soaks the blindfold with tears, not daring to say anything else.

__

"... Because I  _ can, _ Matthew. I don't need another reason. "

__

_ Fuck. _

__

"You  _ do _ beg  _ very _ well, though."

__

_ Double fuck. But he might be able to use it. _

__

"...Please let me go?"

__

"Now,  _ why _ would I do that?"

__

Nightmare sounds amused. Uh-oh.

__

"Please, I'll- I'll do anything you want, I won't tell anyone what happened, I  _ promise, _ just  _ please..." _

__

"And if what I  _ want _ is to cut you?" 

__

Matt swallows a whine, trying to keep his voice as level as possible.

__

_ "Please." _

__

Nightmare just laughs, and then the knife is back.

__

"See, Matthew, I  _ know _ you won't tell anyone about me, and I'm  _ sure _ you can figure out why…"

__

The knife's traced gently over his legs, digging in cruelly when he tries to edge away. Nightmare tsks at him.

__

"Oh,  _ dear. _ Matthew, you made me slip! Better hold  _ still _ if you don't want bloodstains on your clothes…"

__

_ Stop calling me Matthew, _ he doesn't say.  _ Literally everyone calls me Matt,  _ he doesn't say. _ At least call me by the right name if you're going to torture me  _ ~~_ to death, _~~ he doesn't say. Matt doesn't say any of this because it's a  _ stupid _ idea to talk back to the person currently idly threatening him and whose mercy  ~~or lack of it~~ he's relying on.

__

He holds still.

__

__

* * *

__

__

_ "Good _ boy," Nightmare croons, digging the tip of the knife under his chin and forcing his head back.

__

"You look  _ so _ good like this. Red really is your color, Matthew."

__

He'd be significantly more okay with that statement if the 'red' in question wasn't blood.

__

Nightmare evidently tires of keeping the knife dangerously close to Matt's face, pulling it away and ruffling his hair gently as Matt sags in temporary (remember that it's  _ temporary,  _ don't  _ ever _ let your guard down, Nightmare is  _ not safe) _ relief.

__

"There we  _ go, _ Matthew. Behaving so  _ well _ for me.  _ Good _ boy."

__

Let's just… not look into how this is affecting him. Nope, not paying attention to it in the slightest. This is a perfectly ordinary kidnapping situation and he's having a perfectly ordinary reaction to it, which does  _ not  _ involve feeling glad when his  _ captor who is  _ **_torturing him_ ** praises him. 

__

Suddenly the point is jabbing into his unburnt arm, and  _ oh no. _

__

_ Please  _ don't let that be a precursor to what he thinks it is. 

__

Unfortunately, the knife is dragged painfully down his arm, again and again, and Nightmare hums. Matt doesn't want to imagine what it looks like. Feeling it is  _ quite  _ enough, thank you. 

__

A whine escapes as Nightmare pulls away and he  _ immediately  _ clamps his mouth shut, but it's too late.

__

"...Matthew. Are you  _ enjoying _ this?"

__

"No!"

__

The reply's too quick and without the edge of certainty it  _ would _ have had had Nightmare asked that question at the beginning. Shit.

__

Nightmare plays with his hair  _ achingly  _ gently for several seconds. Matt's still fighting not to lean into it when it tightens without warning, jerking his head back at an  _ incredibly _ uncomfortable angle. 

__

Nightmare's tone is light and friendly.

__

"Are you  _ lying _ to me?"

__

"... No."

__

"I don't  _ believe _ you..."

__

Shitshitshitshit _ shit.  _ He can  _ feel _ Nightmare standing over him, nothing but the cruel hand wrenching his head back and the unrelenting  _ presence  _ behind him to focus on besides the fear and throbbing  _ pain _ from Nightmare's earlier…  _ attentions. _

__

"Tch. You know what I meant, Matthew. Now  _ answer me. _ Did. You. Enjoy. It?"

__

God.

__

Getting breath to speak is painfully awkward at this angle, but staying quiet is so far from being an option on the table right now that it's on a different  _ continent.  _

__

"... yes?"

__

The painfully tight grip in his hair loosens, letting him pull away and ease some of the tension.

__

"There we go! Now, was  _ that _ so hard? You do well, when you  _ decide _ to  _ behave." _

__

Nightmare's other hand traces around his throat.

__

"So, Matthew. Any guesses?"

__

Oh,  _ shit. _ The  _ game. _

__

Nightmare laughs at him, saying

__

"You're running out of  _ time…" _ in a mocking singsong.

__

Matt has  _ no idea. _

__

It just doesn't feel like a kitchen knife, that's literally all he knows.

__

Eliminating the kitchen knife still gives him  ~~at least~~ three possible answers. What were the ones Nightmare listed off again? Kitchen knife, pocketknife, Swiss Army knife, and... Switchblade. One of these things is not like the others. He's fairly sure that if Nightmare  _ did _ have a Swiss Army knife, he wouldn't be restraining himself to only the blade. 

__

Pocketknife or switchblade, pocketknife or switchblade, pocketknife or switchblade? He  _ doesn't know.  _

__

He's got 50/50 odds if he just guesses, but there's a  _ chance _ Nightmare just called it a knife to avoid giving him hints and then listed switchblade because he was thinking of it, and a slim chance is better than the  _ none _ he has otherwise, so.

__

"Is it a switchblade?"

__

"Is it?"

__

Matt  _ hates _ this  _ fucking  _ game. The amusement in Nightmare's voice makes Matt hate  _ him _ even more.

__

He breathes in.  
And out.

__

"It's a switchblade."

__

"Last chance, Matthew. Are you  _ sure?" _

__

He swallows against the hand on his throat.

__

"Yes. I'm sure." 

__

"...Oh,  _ Matthew _ . And you were doing so  _ well…" _

__

__

* * *

__

__

He's almost  _ grateful _ for the gag. It's making it easier to hide his whimpers of fear as Nightmare pulls his shirt up to expose his stomach, tucking it into the ropes tying his chest to the chair.

__

He's getting nothing from Nightmare except a small huff of amusement when he pinches Matt's stomach and watches him try to squirm away.

__

After that, he stands up and walks off,  _ please _ not to get the knife again, _ please.  
_

__

Nightmare's not chatting at all, just working quickly and efficiently to get whatever he needs set up. He tapes several...  _ things _ Matt can't identify to his exposed stomach, and settles back, mercifully without any trace of not-switchblade. 

__

"Just out of curiosity. Know what these are?"

__

Reluctantly, he shakes his head. Nightmare strokes his cheek in a way that  _ really _ shouldn't be as comforting as it is.

__

"Since you've behaved so  _ well _ so far, with only this  _ one _ slip-up, I'll tell you!"

__

He drops the friendly veneer.

__

"Electrodes."

__

_ Oh, fuck. _

__

Considerately, Matt's given time to process this. Nightmare just strokes his hair, offering what _should not_ _be_ _comforting_ as the dread builds for several seconds that stretch on for eternity.

__

_ Bzzzt. _

__

He tries to stifle his yelp of pain with only partial success, turning it into a choked-off grunt as he jerks in the chair. Nightmare laughs, and Matt is  _ not _ disappointed when the hand in his hair vanishes. He  _ is not. _

__

"You're holding out on me? I'm impressed, Matthew. You've been so  _ vocal  _ with everything else. Let's see how you react to a  _ higher _ setting…"

__

A shriek rips its way out of his throat as he  _ convulses, _ electricity running through him and it hurt before but this is  _ so much worse _ and is it just the pain or is Nightmare shocking him for  _ longer _ this time, please stop please stop please please  _ please- _

__

He collapses in his bonds, panting for breath.

__

_ "There _ we go. Having fun there, Matthew?"

__

He shakes his head more in denial of the note of satisfaction in Nightmare's voice than at what he's actually saying, too far gone to really process words.

__

Nightmare sighs.

__

"That's a shame. You're really pretty when you're in pain, you know that? It's a pity you're  _ already _ soaked, could've done that to you now. Bet you'd have  _ screamed..." _

__

He _really_ doesn't want to look into the implications of that, and Nightmare obliges, shocking him twice more in quick succession and Matt howls in agony as his world dissolves into  _pain pain_ **_pain_** _please stop it hurts please stop please stop,_ _stop stop stop it hurts it _**_hurts-_**

__

When it finally ends he's left whimpering into the gag. Nightmare traces a hand over his stomach, and he startles at the contact.

__

Nightmare laughs.

__

"Aww, you're so twitchy! It's not often that I get someone this responsive."

__

That's not good.

__

"I'm tempted to keep you, I really am."

__

That's  _ so _ not good. Nothing about those three sentences was good. This entire situation, in fact, is the  _ antithesis _ of good.

__

He might even go so far as to call it  _ bad. _

__

Nightmare trails a hand over his neck,  _ again, _ and splays his fingers over Matt's throat.

__

It's all abruptly  _ too much. _ The sobs he's been stifling since Nightmare burned him, since Nightmare cut him, since Nightmare choked him, since Nightmare  _ terrified _ him- suddenly return full force. Tears spill past the blindfold and slide down his face and it says quite a lot about what Nightmare's done that at first he isn't sure if it's tears or blood.

__

Nightmare's other hand pulls his hair, tipping his head back at an uncomfortable angle and exposing his throat further.

__

"Learned not to  _ guess, _ Matthew?"

__

Matt just cries harder.

__

"...Yeah, I think you've learned your lesson there. Shh, shh, Matthew. It's over now."

__

Nightmare releases him and pulls the electrodes off none too gently, casually rough hands and deliberately softened voice _destroying_ Matt (he'll have nightmares about Nightmare's hands and voice and cruel _kindness_ ~~if he survives)~~ and he can't stop crying why can't he stop _crying-  
_

__

Nightmare sits in his lap.

__

Matt freezes, his choked sobs the only sound in the room.

__

He has  _ no _ idea what this is going to be (painful, going by everything else so far,) but all his instincts are screaming at him to freeze and it's not  _ exactly _ like he has any other options right now. You know, given the whole tied-to-a-chair thing. 

__

"Aww, I've scared you  _ bad,  _ haven't I?"

__

His captor gently, so  _ fucking _ gently, pulls the blindfold off and cups his face, wiping the tears away.

__

Matt still can’t see for a second, sudden bright light blinding him and tears blurring his vision until Nightmare shades it for him, bringing the world into focus.

__

The single lightbulb swinging from the ceiling is the only lightsource, which, just wow. Could Nightmare be any  _ more _ cliche? Although Matt  _ is _ mentally calling him Nightmare, so he can't really talk. He can’t really see anything besides what’s  _ maybe _ a table behind Nightmare, who has black hair and pale skin and what he really fucking hopes is makeup around his eyes. There’s almost _tear tracks_ in purple down Nightmare's face, and something  _ wrong _ with his eyes, a spark inside them that shouldn’t  _ be  _ there as he looks down at Matt.

__

Nightmare smiles, and it looks horrifyingly  _ normal. _ In another life, this is someone who Matt could have hung out with, albeit someone into weird makeup. This is someone who looks  _ genuinely happy,  _ and it's from  _ hurting _ him.

__

As if he knows what Matt's thinking, Nightmare's grin widens.

__

"You're so  _ pretty _ crying like this. Such a shame it's gotta end."

__

This  _absolute nightmare_ **_ending_** brings out a fresh wave of tears and terror in Matt, because that means he's going to  _die_ and he tries desperately to plead for _mercy,_ but Nightmare just shushes him repeatedly, placing a finger over Matt's  _already-fucking-gagged_ mouth.

__

"Don't get yourself too worked up about it, I'm going to do it regardless. Besides, I can't really make out what you're trying to say through that."

__

He taps the gag, smirking.

__

Matt  _ can't even beg for his life _ . He's completely and utterly at the mercy of the man gently tracing a hand up his throat before to loosely gripping it, and there's  _ nothing _ he can do when it starts to tighten.

__

Nightmare kisses his forehead softly.

__

"Shh, Matthew, shh. It'll all be over soon."

__

He's crying almost desperately now, hoping against hope that maybe Nightmare just wants to scare him and he's not going to die, but his blood is roaring in his ears and he's getting dizzy and it _really_ doesn't look like he's an entertaining toy any longer and he  _ can't even beg.  
_

__

In his cruelest parody of kindness, Nightmare's stroking his hair with his left hand even as his right chokes Matt out.

__

"C'mon, Matthew. Just let it happen. Quit struggling to breathe already, come on.  _ Down _ you go. Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven… Six..."

__

Darkness swallows Matt before Nightmare finishes counting.

__

__

* * *

__


End file.
